


what brings me to you

by nachseon



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, RIP, Songfic, also rina is kinda important to the plot even tho she's an oc, heheehheeheheh, slight AU, there's no lyrics but it's based off of a song, u dont see much of ryoma tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4518711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nachseon/pseuds/nachseon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a soulmate is the one person whose love is powerful enough to motivate you to meet your soul, to do the emotional work of self-discovery, of awakening.</p>
<p>and in the end, living in transparency won't matter. not one bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what brings me to you

**Author's Note:**

> [note: the part of the summary about soulmates is by kenny loggins.]
> 
> i've been planning this story for more than a year and it took me months to actually write it - so it means a lot to me lmao. it's based off of ann's song of the same name so please enjoy this story that i have summoned from the depths of hell : )
> 
> also, a special thank you to @cowardlyoctopus on tumblr for beta reading this for me! i really really appreciate it!! <3

Language is the consequence of civilization – of humans. Its complex nature allows for an infinite amount of combinations and orders, but language is not necessarily infinite in itself. It, like mostly everything, has its finish line and there are things that no matter how hard we try, we can never describe; our very existence – the universe in its entirety – is a prime example. Ineffable in nature, our existence is one of those things that only give us a headache when we think about it for too long.

To place it simply, the universe is a system. A perfectly coordinated one; calculating every single being that has ever existed and will cease to exist. The universe is a mysteriously magical place of ever-expansion and evolution. The universe is vast, so incredibly vast, and has neither a beginning nor an ending. It stretches for as far as the human mind could possibly imagine, and even then it still does not suffice. It is harmonic chaos – full of life and death and birth and rebirth, and the ever-constant cycle of life.

In this very universe, we humans are mere particles of dust.  

How comical it is, then, for such dust to so desperately crave remembrance. We want our lives to have so much _meaning_ that when we eventually depart from this world to the Heavens above, people will mourn us and spend _their_ lives remembering our own. Now for some, that is the case. Everyone else is, for the most part, doomed to live in transparency in this vast and obscure sea of eight billion people drifting aimlessly around, doing whatever they can to assign a purpose to themselves, no matter how big or small.

For Nanase Haruka, he has yet to assign himself a purpose.

Naturally, of course. He _is_ still fresh out of high school after all, and is at that point in his life where everything he does is akin to mindlessly wandering through a void of nothingness and dissatisfaction; the constant pressure of surrounding people to find a dream and build a future isn’t helping, either.

Haru admits only to himself that he honestly doesn’t know what to do with his life. He hasn’t wasted his money on college just yet and instead has been living comfortably in Sendai since the summer after his graduation, having rented an apartment in a building just outside the city centre and by the train station. As for income, he works the night shift at a diner and on the side, sometimes offers to do portraits of people in the city streets for a few thousand yen. It’s a mundane lifestyle even for him, but enough to pay the bills and put food on the table. Which right now, is all he needs to worry about.

He hasn’t exactly kept in contact with his classmates from Iwatobi, which he sometimes feels guilty about. But hearing everyone’s eyes light up when they talk about their hopes and dreams and everything they want in life, he remembers exactly why he stopped talking to them in the first place.

Haru wants to find a reason to live. Really, he does. But things like hopes and dreams can’t be looked for, only found; or so his late grandmother said to him. Assuming that’s true, all he can do is wait for it to just come to him. Maybe.

\- - -

It’s a Sunday morning in the oh-so-merry month of May. The kind of Sunday where one avoids having to wake up at all costs, because doing so instills the unsettling feeling of being stuck in limbo without anything productive to do. Haru awakens to the heavy pitter-patter of raindrops against his bedroom window and the incessant beeping of his alarm clock, at which point he reaches over with a tired arm and slams off. His room is nearly pitch black because of the clouds obstructing the sun’s path; not that Haru has any problem with it. He turns over on his side to check the time, and is greeted with 8:35 A.M. in bright red LED lights. Still much too early for any normal human to be awake, he tells himself, but decides on getting up anyway. Having just graduated a few months ago, Haru is still getting used to the idea that he, in fact, does _not_ live in Iwatobi anymore, nor does he have to worry about showing up at school. He enjoys this freedom - it’s almost akin to a constant summer vacation. And that is definitely something he could get used to. Haru yawns in a way that sounds more like a meow than anything as he hauls himself out of bed, haphazardly throwing the covers in an attempt to “make his bed.” He’ll deal with that, and his slightly untidy room, later.

Back in high school, Haru would never start his days without a long, hot bath, as homage to the times he was still a toddler and his grandmother would help him bathe early in the mornings before heading off to school. But upon being hit with the terrible, terrible reality that he does not, in fact, have a tub in his apartment, Haru has since settled for simply taking extremely long showers – especially on mornings he wakes up and his body is cramped and stiff, his mind heavy with stress and his soul aching for some sort of excuse for comfort. For Haru, today is one of those mornings. Once nude, he steps in the shower and the immediate sting of the hot water against his tired skin is a relief, and a content sigh escapes him as he feels his muscles relax, and his mind at ease if only for a few moments. And he stays like that for God knows how long – in his own little world, lost in himself and the water raining down on him, enveloping him in its warmth. He eventually washes his hair and lathers himself in soap, after which he soon forces himself out of the shower, skin red and burning in the most relaxing way possible. Towel in hand, he re-enters his bedroom to dress – a simple grey v-neck and pajama pants should do the trick for now. With the rain as heavy as it is, he likely won’t go out until evening.

Haru isn’t big on breakfast – he never has been. Since he began living alone after his grandmother’s passing, he’s never had the time to actually sit down and eat before school because he was always late. Besides, it’s way too much effort to actually take the time and _cook_ that early in the morning. Although, he’s recently picked up a habit where he whips up a smoothie and drinks it throughout the entirety of the morning until he eats a light lunch. A look in the fridge screams at him that that won’t exactly be possible, since he’s forgotten to do groceries for a while. Shit.

With a grunt, Haru settles on an ice-cold glass of water and an apple, since it’s his last one and he actually does want to eat something. _I guess I have to go shopping before work,_ he notes to himself. From there his mind wanders to his job, which, as much he hates it, he makes decent money from. He eagerly awaits the day he can quit, as far away in the future as it may be from now.

He’s pulled from his thoughts upon hearing a familiar twinkle from his phone, notifying him of a message – specifically one from his girlfriend, for whom he’s set a special ringtone. He waits a minute (he _totally_ wasn’t hoping for her to text him this morning) before getting up to check the message on his phone. In all honesty, he still has a little trouble using this phone. He really only got it because of work and his girlfriend, and has yet to actually become accustomed to its fingerprint lock and touchscreen.

_[ MSG frm. Rina <3 ] : morning, Haru-chan~ did you sleep well? ww_

_[ MSG frm. N. Haru ] : drop the –chan._

_[ MSG frm. Rina <3 ] : ahh i’m only teasing you Haruuuuu~~_

_[ MSG frm. Rina <3 ] : are you busy today?_

_[ MSG frm. N. Haru ] : i’m going shopping later. i ran out of groceries. w..w…?_

Haru can hear the giggling of his girlfriend at his failed attempt at using “text talk,” but also the chiding tone in her voice at the thought of him not having groceries. Since realising just how little he actually eats, Rina has since made a point in making sure he ate at least _something_ throughout the day. The thought brings a smile to Haru’s face.

_[ MSG frm. Rina <3 ] : yah, i’m coming over, okay? we’re going shopping and you can’t stop me._

_[ MSG frm. N. Haru ] : …whatever._

       

He’s grateful that Rina lives relatively close to his apartment complex, because the intensity of the rain has probably increased tenfold in the time he’s been awake. God knows that she’ll forget her umbrella in her rush to come see him. When the sound of her familiar knock reaches his ears, he’s quick to open the door for her - and as predicted, she’s soaked to the bone.

“Haru!” She smiles and launches herself into his arms, to which he has no real objection. Except that she’s dripping wet all over his floor. _Not in that way,_ he has to remind himself. Haru doesn’t have the heart to push her away, so after kicking his door shut, he lazily wraps an arm around her petite frame.

“You’re soaked,” he says flatly.

A blush rises to her cheeks and she tries mumbling out an obviously fake excuse before being shooed off to the bathroom to take a hot shower. Rina pecks Haru on the cheek before disappearing into his shower, and he waits until it looks – and feels – like a sauna before sneaking in to take her wet clothes, leaving a towel and one of his t-shirts in its place. Rina has her own drawer of clothes, since she spends the night with Haru quite often, waiting for him at the most ungodly hours just so she could sleep beside him. But because he’s going to wash her clothes and they’re going out in a while, she might as well go commando in one of his shirts. No biggie.

It might also be because his shirts are just big enough on her that he can see her cute little ass peeking out from underneath. Maybe.

He notices Rina exit the shower, but doesn’t say anything because he’s too focused on his phone; he’s struggling more than he wants to admit right now. Rina plops herself beside him on the couch, trying to take a peek at what he’s doing.

“I’m making a list,” he announces, answering her wordless question, “of groceries I need.”

“If I see mackerel anywhere on that list, I’m going to kill you.”

“Uh-huh.”       

“Seriously, Haru!” Rina pouts, resting her head on his shoulder and idly watching his fingers move across the screen, albeit with some difficulty. She finds it adorable. “At least tell me what you have so far.”

They spent at least twenty minutes creating this master list of groceries, mainly because Rina is forcing Haru to buy more produce and meat and literally everything other than seafood. As healthy and muscular as he is, she’s always pestering him about the fact that he won’t stay that way if he doesn’t eat anything besides mackerel.

But to his credit, he’s made big progress since high school.

Once Rina decides that her boyfriend has a good enough list of groceries, she gets up and stretches, which pulls the shirt up just a tad, and Haru can see the curve of her ass and he has to look away but it looks so _good_ and-

“I know you’re staring, Haru.”

He’s suddenly - and very _harshly_ , might he add - pulled out of his not-at-all-safe-for-work thoughts.

_Dammit_ , Haru thinks to himself. _Play it off. You weren’t staring._

“You’re imagining things.” Haru retorts. Rina laughs.

“You’re a pervert,” she counters, raising an eyebrow and daring him to challenge her. She rests a hand on her hip and plays with the hem of the shirt; tugging it up and then back down, pushing her chest out. Haru yanks her onto his lap. Challenge accepted.

They don’t leave that couch for quite a while longer.

\- - -

Later that evening, long after they’ve finished shopping, Rina has gone back to her apartment and Haru is on his way to work, he lets his mind wander back and forth and he thinks about everything and everyone to the point his head starts to hurt and he has to think of something else. That something ends up being Rina.

Haru doesn’t doubt that she loves him. She says it all the time, whenever she can. He doesn’t always say it back, but her feelings are more than reciprocated. He just. . .isn’t as socially gifted as Rina, and has trouble articulating what it is exactly he feels for her. And he’d never admit it to her, or anyone else for that matter, but Haru genuinely wouldn’t mind staying with her long-term – he wouldn’t mind an eternity, of sorts. He and Rina, since their meeting on that day at the park, have dropped themselves into each other’s hearts and exposed the parts of themselves that they thought should be concealed forever. Their different personalities matched each other and balanced each other out in the best way. Each of them adds something special to the relationship. He likes it. Brief flashbacks of their first meeting pass at the forefront of Haru’s mind; he remembers Rina - who caught his eye quite a while before she approached him - asking him to draw her, and what should have been an hour-long drawing session turned into a five-hour long conversation, which morphed into a few impromptu dates that soon blossomed into the relationship that they have now. It’s been a few months since then. _Time really does fly, huh,_ Haru muses.

Still, he can’t help but feel that _something_ is off. He doesn’t know what it is – his mind is telling him that she’s a good match, which is mostly true. His rationality overrides his emotions most of the time. It’s at the oddest of hours and when he least expects it; but his heart tells Haru that his _real_ match is somewhere else. Somewhere he can’t reach them, somewhere he can’t follow. They’re lost in his past somewhere, and he’s used up all his chances with them and is stuck living in the transparency that is so dreaded by humankind. The more he ponders about the situation, the more his brain starts to hurt again, so he shoves the thought aside and distracts himself with something else.

Fate is a cruel mistress.

Haru enters the diner, and he’s immediately hit with the smell of french fries and burgers and all things diabetes-inducing. As often as he deals with the smell, it never fails to make him want to gag. He immediately notices and greets the regular customers of the hour, and goes in the back to put on his apron. When he comes back out, a pair of grossly familiar caramel brown eyes meets his own cerulean ones, and Haru raises an eyebrow in near surprise.

“Why are you here?” he bluntly asks, folding his arms and resting his elbows on the counter. He looks bored, unamused, and uninterested in seeing the man sitting before him.

“Oi, stop being so cold,” the man teased, reaching out to ruffle Haru’s hair – the one thing he despises with a _fiery_ passion. “That isn’t any way to treat a customer.”

“You’re not here as a customer, Kuroki-san,” Haru huffs, shifting his attention to a newer, _actual_ customer, whose order he scribbles down on his notepad before passing the slip of paper back to the kitchen, through the same damn window that’s letting out that disgustingly greasy smell of “food.”

This “Kuroki-san” guy, otherwise known as Ryoma, was Haru’s first boyfriend. They dated for the first months after Haru’s graduation, when he just moved to Sendai. At 24, Ryoma is currently attending graduate school to get his master’s degree in physical therapy. Because he frequents the diner often, he and Haru are, for the most part, on good terms.

“You can call me Ryoma, you know. We’re not complete strangers.”

“We are now,” Haru says bitterly. “Can I take your order?”

“The usual. Teriyaki burger with a side of fries and a medium cola, please.”

Haru rolls his eyes and jots the order down just as fast as he’d done seconds before, announcing another order as he trades the paper for a tray of food with a chef. He delivers the food to the waiting customer and plops himself down on a stool, directly across from Ryoma. He flashes Haru a sickly sweet smile.

“We should hang out sometime, Haru,” he says, leaning forward a bit too close for comfort. “I miss you.”

Haru ignores the offer, and places Ryoma’s order in front of him, having to hold his breath from the putrid smell of grease and oil.

For someone who takes health classes on a near daily basis, he wonders how Ryoma can eat this stuff – let alone stay in shape.

Ryoma continues to talk to Haru (technically, to the wall behind Haru) while the latter loses himself in his mind again. He and Ryoma used to date casually for a few months and in all honesty, it wasn’t that bad. They broke up on the grounds that neither one of them was ready for a relationship. For Haru, it was more than that. Sure, he had been attracted to Ryoma at the time. He didn’t mind dating him. But as with Rina, there was something about it. It was like his s was screaming at him at how wrong that relationship was, that the person he _should_ be with was trapped in his past somewhere, and it won’t be until he confronts said past, that he’ll meet them again. He doesn’t understand it though – it just doesn’t _add up_. It can’t add up.

He lost contact with pretty much everyone after graduation. It’s what happens. You spend a little time with someone, become their “most beloved” and eventually part ways and completely forget that either one of you existed together.

“Haru, Haru! Oi, punk, are you listening to me?”

Ryoma rather forcefully pulls Haru out of his thoughts and tilts his head.

“Shut up, will you?” Haru says brusquely.

“You’re still the same, aren’t you?”

Haru ignores him.

\- - -

Months later, it’s the beginning of August and the height of summer; at this point, Haru is convinced that the entire country of Japan has somehow been transported to the pits of Hell for all eternity. Seriously. It’s fucking sweltering. Even with every fan and air conditioner in Haru’s apartment working simultaneously, he still feels like he’s living in some mockery of a sauna, constantly drenching in sweat and it’s just so unbelievably disgusting. The added humidity is only amplifying everyone’s suffering, too.

Times like these are the reasons why Haru hates living in Japan.

He has a fan placed right in the middle of the living room, and Haru plops himself down in front of it while flipping on the TV to some random news channel. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches the reporter read her script almost robotically.

_“With the decorations eagerly being put up, tomorrow begins the festivities for the Tanabata Festival throughout the country. The most famous celebration, held in Sendai, will begin tonight with a fireworks display at Nishi Park at 8:30pm. The festival will last from tomorrow evening to the eighth of August at Kotodai Park Citizens’ Square.”_

Haru sighs. He remembered Rina having talked to him about it a few days ago, but he gave the excuse that he was too busy and couldn’t go. Thinking about it now, though. . .

He reaches for his phone on the coffee table and does some basic research on the whole festival itself;

_The Tanabata Festival, originating from China’s Qixi Festival, is the celebration of the meeting of deities Orihime and Hikoboshi. Legend has it that they are separated by the Milky Way and can only meet on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month. Many of the customs are similar to Obon Festival traditions, but people usually write wishes on tanzaku paper to be hung on bamboo._

Haru continues to read more about the festival itself and decides to sacrifice his one night off work for Rina. He sends her a quick text.

_[ MSG frm. N. Haru ] : are you busy tonight?_

_[ MSG frm. Rina <3 ] : nope~ why?_

_[ MSG frm. N. Haru ] : do you want to go_

_[ MSG frm. N. Haru ] : to_

_[ MSG frm. N. Haru ] : uhm_

_[ MSG frm. N. Haru ] : the festival. with me._

 

She doesn’t reply after that, and Haru wonders – and internally panics – because he thinks he’s done something wrong. A few moments later, his phone rings and immediately he recognizes the ringtone.

Rina.

He answers the phone fairly quickly, and before he can say anything, Rina is firing questions at him from the other end of the line. Her voice is even perkier and more shrill than normal, bubbling with excitement.

“Haru-chan, seriously? I thought you were busy! You really want to go? Were you planning it?”

“Drop the _–chan,_ ” he half-heartedly quips. “I have the night off work, so. . .”

“When do you want me over?” She asks. Haru can hear her already looking through her closet to pick out what to wear.

“Six. Fireworks start at eight-thirty,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Ahh, I love you! Thank you, Haru!”

The call ends there and Haru stretches, reluctantly leaving the euphoric breeze of the fan to go shower quickly before Rina’s arrival. He has a good two hours before she comes over – one of which, he will most definitely spend in the shower.

When she does eventually come over, Haru lets her in and is immediately taken aback by the sight of her in a light sundress that sits just above her knees. Her hair is done up in a casual bun and he notices the light makeup she put on, too.

“Haru,” she whines, reaching out to hug him, “stop staring.”

He averts his gaze immediately; his ears are tinged a light shade of pink. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Uh-huh.”

The duo leaves hand-in-hand (much to Haru’s embarrassment) to snatch a good spot to watch the fireworks. Tanabata is a fairly popular holiday, so Haru isn’t surprised when he sees so many people already at the park, snapping pictures beside the decorations. Rina looks up at him.

“Yah, Haru, take a selfie with me,” she giggles, and he actually almost says yes, when he hears a voice behind him.

A voice that he hasn’t heard since graduation, and one that is unmistakable, no matter how old he gets.

_Makoto._

“Ah, Haruka? Is that you?” Makoto, now 19 and much taller than he was last year (damn him), tentatively walks up to Haru and his girlfriend. He has a nervous smile on his face.

“. . .Makoto.” Haru just barely whispers.

Haru doesn’t know what to say – he doesn’t know if there is anything he _can_ say. Starting a conversation off with _‘By the way, I’m sorry for the stuff I said last year and have been in an emotional hell without talking to you,’_ isn’t exactly a good idea. At least, not at this point.

“Wow, I. . .” Makoto too, is at a loss for words. For one, he never thought Haru had an interest in girls. Let alone get a girlfriend. He gives a light shake of his head and smiles lightly. “It’s been a while.”

 “Yeah.”

Rina is beyond confused and steps forward, bowing slightly towards Makoto. “Ah, excuse me? Who are you?”

Makoto immediately stutters an apology and bows in return, smiling at her. “My name is Makoto. Tachibana Makoto. I was a former classmate of Haruka’s in high school.” _And former best friend_ , Makoto thinks sadly.

Rina, unaware of the tense atmosphere between the two men, decides to let the two catch up and promises to save Haru a good spot. She pecks him on the cheek and walks away, and he tries using some sort of telepathy to scream at her to get back here before he has a mental breakdown in front of Makoto.

“Is. . .she your girlfriend?” Makoto asks.

The lack of response from Haru’s end lets Makoto know he stepped on a nerve and backs away from the subject. Even after all this time, he still knows how to read the raven-haired boy like an open book.

There’s more silence between them and both Haru and Makoto know that they could slice the tension into a million pieces. One wrong move and it’s over.

“Aha. . .aren’t you going to ask how I’ve been?” Makoto tries teasing; his method of lightening the atmosphere works somewhat, because Haru shrugs and he continues, “I go to university in America. I’m studying in New York. How about you, Haruka?”

Makoto’s repeated use of his full name drives Haru insane and the first thing he does is snap, “stop calling me by my full name.” Makoto nods, a bit taken aback by Haru’s harsh tone.

“I work the night shift at a diner and draw on the side,” he replies dryly.

“You didn’t think of going to col-”

“You know damn well why I didn’t want to go to college.”

_He really hasn’t changed,_ Haru muses. Painful flashbacks of the evening of their fight passes before his eyes and he shoves them away before he tears up. He hates it. He hates all of this.

_“The truth is, you want to find a dream, too! You should find that dream, and go flying into the outside world to follow it! You have the ability to do that, Haru!”_

The whole situation feels like déjà vu, too. They’re both at a festival, they’re both anxious, and on the brink of having an argument if Makoto says one more word about college or futures or dreams or anything of the sort that will cause Haru agita. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t _need_ it. Not again.

Makoto feels the same, but is unable to hold his tongue, even as he sees Rina approaching them with a huge smile. “You really haven’t changed, have you? You still don’t care.”

Another flashback of that fateful night zooms before Haru’s eyes. _“You’re **not** fine, Haruka! You’re not fine and that’s why we’re telling you this! We all love you. We care about you. Why can’t you see that?”_

“And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?” he hisses, whipping his head toward Makoto and he glares at him in such a way that Makoto can feel his face heating up. Mostly in frustration.

“It means what you want,” he replies. “Haru, you’re wasting your potential and you know it.”

That does it. “I don’t _care_ , Makoto! You were right about that. I don’t fucking care. It’s my life, so stop butting your nose in my business! I’m perfectly fine with how things are!”

“Oh, when will you stop lying to yourself? Everyone has moved on with their lives. I’m studying abroad in America. Rei and Nagisa are graduating this year and going to college. Rin is in Australia and training for the Olympics. But here you are, all alone with nothing to call your own. You’re transparent.”

With Makoto finished speaking, the two of them just stare at each other in utter disbelief as to what happened. Makoto’s eyes are as wide as Haru’s and he places a hand over his mouth, even though the words are gone and he can’t take them back, as much as he wants to. He didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean it, _he didn’t mean it-_

“Haru?”

Rina calls out from behind the raven-haired boy, and when he turns around she can see the tears in his eyes that are threatening to spill and how he’s chewing on his lip to hold them back.

“Leave me alone!”

With that he runs away, just like he did that one fateful night in high school. He runs as fast as he can, ignoring the calls of his girlfriend and Makoto and the looks on people’s faces when they see his cheeks are soaked in his tears. Haru knows, oh he _knows_ , how this whole thing is foolish and cowardly, but it’s all he knows how to do because even the one person he could go to about his worries and anxieties isn’t there anymore.

Makoto and Rina look on and he slowly explains the situation, apologising profusely for what he said to Haru. Rina shakes it off.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” she reassures him. “Haru. . .he’s been like that since I met him. Mention anything about college or the future and he’ll break down. I. . .never asked him, but. . .I think it has something to do with this argument you had?”

Makoto thinks back to that night and he feels an ache in his chest, the kind that hurts so badly that you feel like your body is going to collapse in on itself from guilt and sorrow. He regrets that night with every fiber in his being. If he had a time machine, all he would do is go back to that night and fix it.

“Yeah, that fight. . .took a toll on the both of us,” he replies. “More so on Haru than me, though.”

“Here,” Rina says, pulling out her phone, “take Haru’s number off my phone, and you can call him if you want. I think it’d do him good to reconcile with you. You, too.”

They soon part ways, and Makoto stares at Haru’s number in his contacts, his own eyes welling up with tears.

He’ll call him tomorrow.

\- - -

Haru doesn’t actually regain contact with Makoto until winter rolls around, when the city streets are lined with what seems like miles of strings of lights and decorations; stores hang amulets for good luck at their entrance ways, and the smell of hot chocolate and cinnamon emanates from the cafés serving their ever-popular seasonal drinks. In the same park that held the Tanabata Festival is a huge Christmas tree, where people go to hang up small toys and other ornaments. Even Haru admits to himself that he likes the change in atmosphere from autumn. There’s something about winter that puts one’s mind and soul at ease; for a while, one can enjoy the togetherness of the holiday season without being plagued by their usual everyday worries.

The only downside is that his parents, much to his chagrin, decided to take the time to visit and spend a whole _week_ with him.

It’s hard. Haru doesn’t know how he deals with them.

Their incessant interrogations of how he’s doing and what he plans to do with himself in the next year and all that nonsense drives him to the brink of insanity, to the point where he has to “kindly” ask them to shut up about it.

He’s glad that they don’t know about Rina. He’s even more glad when they leave.

Speaking of her, his mind wanders back to her; she went back to Fukuoka to visit her parents for the holidays, and he hasn’t seen her in weeks. He actually somewhat misses her.

He’s snapped out of his daze when his phone rings, and is confused to see an unknown Caller ID. Sighing, he picks it up and answers with an annoyed tone, “Hello?”

“. . .Haruka?”

Haru’s eyes are probably going to pop out of his head. How the hell did Makoto get his number?

“What?”

“Can we talk?” Makoto asks from the other end of the line, and Haru easily picks up on the tentativeness in his voice.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” he snaps back.

“In person, Haruka.”

Another sigh from Haru. “Stop calling me by my full name. Where?”

“How about that café by your apartment complex?”

“Fine.” He hangs up.

When Haru meets up with Makoto at their designated spot, the only thing he feels is apprehension. He’s terrified. He’s fucked up with him so many times with their encounters and he’s terrified that he’ll do it again. He’s lost Makoto enough. He needs to make it right this time.

“Ah, Haru, over here!”

Makoto’s waving at him politely and has saved a seat for Haru in the least populated part of the café; he even bought him a coffee. Haru goes over to him and sits down. He’s tense.

“Thanks for coming,” Makoto says, giving him a small smile. “It’s my last day in Japan before I go back to the States, so. . .” He doesn’t finish the sentence, figuring that Haru will pick up on his intentions.

“What are you. . .majoring in?” Haru asks quietly, hiding his face by taking a sip of the coffee. Makoto’s smile widens.

“Journalism. I’ve always wanted to work for JNN. . .” Makoto lets out a soft laugh.

A slightly awkward, but mostly comfortable silence falls between them, before Makoto speaks up again.

“Listen, Haru, I. . .I want to apologise for what happened between us. Back in high school and at the festival. I really am sorry for the things I said to you.”

Haru winces at the mere mention of both events, but holds his tongue.

“I didn’t intend for our friendship to fall apart like that, you know? When I went to America, the first thing I wanted to do was call you somehow. It felt weird not having you around. Funny, isn’t it?”

Haru nods, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he wracks his brains for what to say. He sighs and resorts to just spilling whatever his mind is saying right now.

“I. . .said some really horrible things to you before. Things I really didn’t mean,” he mumbles, “I’m sorry, too.”

Makoto’s eyes widen, but his expression soon softens and he smiles sincerely. _Maybe we have a chance,_ he thinks to himself. His heart aches as he recalls them both frantic and angry that night, yelling and throwing insults at each other on the balcony overlooking all of Iwatobi. Over something stupid, too. But they’ve started a new chapter, and it looks to be starting off wonderfully.

_Maybe we can fix it._

In the weeks following their meeting at the café, Haru and Makoto communicate solely by sporadic emails, oddly timed texts and the occasional wacky-hour phone calls. It’s a start. A weird one, but a start nonetheless. Haru wakes up one morning to the sound of his phone buzzing, and he reaches over to check it. It’s an email. From Makoto.

 

_To: Haru Nanase <haru.nanase30>_

_From: Tachibana Makoto <tachibanana17>_

_Date: 15 January 2016_

_Subject: n/a_

_Haru! How are you? Happy (very late, haha) New Year! I hope you spent it well. (Say hello to Rina, too!)_

_Ahh, the semester just started and I’m already drowning in work. Send me good luck, Haru-chan! I’ll need it!_

_Makoto_

Haru snorts to himself and types out a reply.

 

_Reply To: Tachibana Makoto <tachibanana17>_

_From: Haru Nanase <haru.nanase30>_

_Date: 15 January 2016_

_Subject: n/a_

_I’m fine, I guess. Hope you’re doing okay, too. Do well in America. I know you can._

_H.N._

 

Their conversation ends there for the time being, likely because of the huge time difference and Haru’s bad habit of not giving a long enough reply to anything. It works like that for months, until Makoto is able to actually video chat with Haru one day.

Haru sits in front of his laptop on his living room floor, angling the camera and waiting for Makoto’s call. When he calls, Haru answers a bit too quickly for his liking. Oh well.

“Haru!” Makoto says, and after a moment’s lag, Haru sees his face and can’t help but smile just a little bit at seeing the smile on his face. It’s cute. “Can you see me?”

“Yeah,” Haru replies. “Can you?”

“Yeah!”

They talk for hours on end, until they are both exhausted and can barely keep their eyes open; when Makoto eventually falls asleep on camera, Haru spends a while simply admiring his visage – and thanking every God in existence for his second chance. He won’t let him go. Not this time.

\- - -

Rina leaves the following year, just after their second anniversary.

It’s an accident when he finds out, really. She just so happened to leave her plane ticket – her _one-way_ plane ticket – to Paris out in the open, where Haru catches a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye by mistake. He’s upset. He felt betrayed.

She explains the situation – she wants to become a model. She found herself a dream in life, the type of dream that she and Haru joked about when they first met and spoke ill of. Rina begs him to go with her and stay with her but he can’t. He can’t and he won’t because it’s the same no matter where he is.

He’s always alone.       

The little voice in the back of his head mocks him as he lays in his bed, curled up into the sheets that are damp with his tears. _See, Haru? Look at you. What a pathetic fucking thing. Makoto was right, you’re falling into transparency. You have no purpose. Everyone leaves you. You’ll always be alone._

In the end, Makoto is the one to pick Haru up again – to remind him that he’s not alone. He has Makoto. Everything is fine. He’ll be fine.

He doesn’t see Rina off on the day of her departure.

\- - -

Makoto graduates when he’s 22, and is quick to go back to Japan. Haru offers to let him crash at his place, until he can find an apartment somewhere else.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay in Sendai,” he muses to Haru one day, flashing him the biggest, brightest smile that Haru hasn’t seen in a long time. “We’ll be close to each other that way.”

Their constant presence around each other and greetings when one of them gets home, is enough for Haru to remember their life before they separated. He misses it, because after their fight, he shut himself away again. He became independent again. Doing that for so long, he wonders how he’ll learn to let go of himself around Makoto again; but as scared as he is, he wants to go back to that type of closeness with him. No matter how long it takes.

Haru gets home from work late one night. it’s 5am, and he knows Makoto isn’t up yet and probably won’t be for at least a few hours. With his shoes at the front door, Haru pads along the floor to his bedroom, being as quiet as he can so as not to wake up Makoto. They share a room and, much to Haru’s delight, are also sharing a bed. He lets a smile tug at his lips as Makoto whines in his sleep and turns over, mumbling something incoherent in the most adorable way. He changes into his pajamas but doesn’t get into bed; instead, he watches Makoto sleep and wonders to himself how he’d been lucky enough to not only meet someone like him, but also have as many chances with him as he has. It’s in this moment that Haru realises how completely, hopelessly, deeply, irrevocably, and utterly out of his mind in love he is with Makoto.

Fate is a weird thing.

He idly runs his fingers through Makoto’s hair, curling it gently around his fingertips and marveling at how purely angelic he looks in his sleep. Before lying down beside him, Haru presses a chaste kiss to Makoto’s forehead.

Makoto’s eyes flutter open, and he smiles to himself.

\- - -

The year is 2020; Haru, at 23, finally decides to go to a local college (after much persuasion on Makoto’s end) and is majoring in art. He doesn’t work at the diner anymore, but still offers to do portraits for people in the streets on occasion, and still charges a few thousand yen for it.

He also steals drawings of Makoto when he can.

In the months after they moved in together, Haru comes to realise two things. One, that he is stupidly in love with Makoto, and has been all this time; and two, that he isn’t afraid anymore. He doesn’t doubt himself anymore in the way that he used to. He isn’t afraid of losing anymore, either. He’s overcome a huge hurdle in his life, and understands that he really isn’t alone in this world anymore. He has Makoto. He has a constant in his life.

“I’m home.” Haru steps into his now shared apartment with Makoto, taking his shoes off and setting them by the front door.

“Ah, welcome home, Haru! How was class today?”

Makoto emerges from the bedroom with a smile, and Haru walks up to him to place a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“Fine, I guess. The professor’s a bit annoying though,” he says, letting himself fall into the other man’s waiting arms, reveling in his warmth. He hears the light rumble of Makoto’s laugh from above him.

“Are you hungry? I’m cooking.”

“That’s a scary thought.”

“You’re so mean!”

Haru cracks a smile and kisses Makoto’s cheek again. “I’m kidding. Let me go change, and I’ll be out in a minute.”

While changing in their room, Haru comes to realise yet another thing. As much as he wants a fulfilling life, he doesn’t crave remembrance like most people. He’s content with living in that so-called world of transparency that everyone hates.

So long as he and Makoto aren’t transparent to each other.

They’ve managed to find each other, and that’s all that matters.


End file.
